Celebrity

By Rowena Tucker
Page 1 of 2

Zakiid couldn't believe his luck.

He'd spent the morning in Myenna's Palace, gaining a little new perspective
in life with the help of several of Myenna's potent concoctions, and then as
he was coming out, he spotted them. He wasn't sure at first; after all, the
central market place of Derondar's main domed city was fairly crowded, so
he'd followed them. He wasn't quite close enough to hear what they were
saying but there was no mistaking them. He and his group had seen the
official vidcasts about them so often, they could practically recite them.
Suramma was the worst for that; her life practically revolved around
obsessively following this group and their exploits. And now here they were!
Well, two of them. He studied the back of the heads of his targets, walking a
little ahead of him through the busy market streets. Yes, it was definitely
them: the dark haired man was Avon and the woman Cally. Two of the infamous
"Blake's Seven" right here on his planet, right in front of him!

He could barely contain his excitement when he thought about how he would be
able to tell the others about this. Suramma would just die of jealousy when
she heard about this, especially when he told her which two. She had always
claimed to be madly in love with Avon, plastering the walls of her room with
pictures of him and her collection of articles that appeared about him in any
publication she could get her hands on. She was always going on and on
endlessly about how if she ever met him she would tempt him away from a life
of rebellion and they would then run off together to a new life on one of the
Outer Worlds. She saw no reason why this couldn't happen, despite the rest of
them all pointing out the million and one flaws in her plan - mainly that he
was a dangerous wanted criminal and she was a seventeen year old girl - but
she refused to listen to any of them. He wondered what the two of them were
doing here. As Derondar was a virtually independent world, it was unlikely
that they were planning to attack anything here. There wasn't anything to
attack at any rate; no matter how rich and prosperous it was, Derondar was a
dull planet. Hence the number of places like Myenna's Palace to be found
there. Zakiid dared himself to creep closer, straining to hear what they were
saying in the hope that this would tell him what they were up to. He was
careful not to get too close though; he wasn't sure if what they said about
the Auron woman was true or not. He remembered how that had come up at the
party last night, the one he'd held at his apartments while his parents were
away. Jiralya, a pale, plumpish girl who took everything far too seriously,
was recounting what she'd been reading about Aurons and how some of them were
such powerful telepaths they could suck all the thoughts out of your head and
leave you a drooling idiot. "Well if that's true," Dalian had drawled. "It
wouldn't take them long to finish you off. And I don't think anyone would
notice if they did."

The rest of the group had all shrieked with laughter, hurling handfuls of
popped isha kernels at each other as Jiralya flushed bright red, trying to
shrink away into the cushions she was sitting on. None of them could stand
Jiralya really, she was such a cretin; they only let her hang around with
them because her father was one of the richest and most powerful men on the
planet. Why he'd never used some of that money and power to sort out his only
daughter, they could never understand. It wouldn't take much to make her
tolerable. Just a couple of operations, some hair augmentation, a few years
of intensive psycho-therapy to make her lighten up a bit...

Suddenly aware that his mind was wandering, Zakiid pulled his attention back
to the present. He didn't really believe half of what he'd heard about
Aurons, but he didn't want to take a chance of being caught out if Cally
really could read his mind. Idly, he contemplated what it would be like to
have sex with a telepath, then he found himself wondering if he'd be able to
find out, if he pulled this off right.

He was a little scared, if he was honest with himself, at what he was
planning, but he knew he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. Besides,
the others would never believe him when he told them if he didn't have proof.
Taking advantage of the fact that his two targets had stopped in front of a
market stall and were examining the merchandise, he half-hid himself behind
an ornate pillar and, raising his new portable all-in-one surreptitiously, he
recorded a few pictures, being careful not to let them see him. The woman's
head tilted slightly, as if listening for something, and she grasped her
companion's arm. He saw the man's lips move briefly, but neither of them
turned his way, so Zakiid assumed he was safe. It made sense to assume that
these people would always be on edge. Even on a planet like Derondar, there
could be people who would turn them in. Idiots. How could anyone not realise
that these people were heroes? They fought against the Federation! Even here,
on a planet virtually ignored by the Federation since time began, Zakiid
could see that their cause was a fantastic one. How exciting it must be; to
be outlaws, hunted, immersed in a noble struggle against oppression.

The two started up again, moving away from the market place and heading
towards the shuttle bays. Zakiid started up in a panic, worried that he might
be losing his targets before he'd even be able to talk to them. He knew that
they were supposed to have some kind of miraculous teleportation device that
they used for transport rather than shuttles, but he didn't want to run the
risk that this time they were using more conventional methods and he wouldn't
be able to follow them. Away from the crowds now, he could see them clearly
as they turned a corner, and he hurried to catch up with them, his mind
rapidly turning over what would be the coolest opening line to approach them
with. All coherent thought however, was immediately driven straight out of
his head once he rounded the corner and found himself slammed up against a
wall with an arm against his throat and a gun held to his head.

"Who are you and why are you following us?" asked the owner of the gun.
Avon.

Too startled to take it in - although now only too aware that it was Cally
who was pressing him up against the wall, something he had not imagined in
any of his projections - he could only gurgle in reply.

The arm restricting his airway slackened off a little, allowing him to gasp
in a deep breath, but he could still make no words. The gun was pushed closer
to his face and Zakiid realised with a sudden surge of panic that they really
thought he was somebody dangerous and could conceivably shoot him.

"Hey, I just - I'm not, I mean..." he managed to stutter. Cally released him,
stepping back but drawing her own weapon.

"He's just a boy," she remarked to her companion, taking in his peacock
overcoat, chosen specially to match his eyes, his elaborately embroidered
trousers with matching shoes and the spiky, multi- coloured hairstyle that
took an age to perfect every morning.

"Why were you following us?" she demanded.

Zakiid swallowed nervously, his heart racing. This wasn't how it was supposed
to go! He was supposed to stroll up to them nonchalantly, make some
stunningly clever remark that would bowl them over with his obvious coolness
and intellect. Suddenly he wished he hadn't consumed quite so many of
Myenna's concoctions earlier.

"I - I recognised you. From the vidcasts. I wanted to make sure it was
you."

"You recognised us? Who is it you think we are?" Avon demanded coldly, the
guns still held unwaveringly on Zakiid.